Cooldown
by Talyn
Summary: After the defeat of Syndrome, Bob and Helen nurse their wounds, worry about their kids, and talk about the future. Some marital romance and resolutions about the future ensue.


AN:  I've always wondered how Helen and Bob decided to go back to being 'supers' full-time.  This happens the night immediately following the final defeat of Syndrome.

Disclaimer:  The Incredibles belong to Disney and Pixar, who are kind enough to let me play with them once they are done.

**The Incredibles: Cooldown**

Their small, battered suburban home had never looked so welcoming, even with the front yard reduced to scorched grass and their façade covered with ash and rubble. The grim-faced government agents had assured them that someone would be by to assess the damage and 'fix things back up' as soon as possible, but Bob wasn't going to hold his breath.

It was late, and their neighborhood was peaceful and dark, the warm glow of electric lights shining through windows the only light. The kids were asleep – even Dash's boundless energy couldn't keep him awake after what had transpired in the past two days, and Violet had simply thrown herself into bed and was out like a light. Bob was toweling off after a long, hot shower. His filthy, battered jumpsuit was crumpled into a ball and tossed into the dirty clothes hamper by the bed, and Helen's was roughly folded and laid on top. Helen was in the shower now, finally able to relax after putting the kids to bed.

Over the desk in their bedroom stretched a long mirror, and Bob couldn't help but wince when he saw the bruises criss-crossing his massive chest. A long row of tiny purple marks snaked across his stomach, evidence of assault-rifle bullets stopped by his armored suit. There were burn marks on his face, neck, back and hands, and bruises on his wrists so dark as to be almost black; those on his wrist were a souvenir from Buddy's – no, from _Syndrome's_ – imprisonment device.

He was still tracing the damage when Helen walked in, her hair wet and down about her shoulders, and her still-slim body wrapped in a faded yellow towel. She looked at the mirror briefly, then looked away and slumped on the foot of their bed.

Bob sat down beside her, and the two clutched each other desperately for a few minutes, just silently thanking God that the other was all right. Finally, Helen was the first to speak.

"Lie down, Bob, I've got to make sure that you're all right," she said with quiet authority. Ignoring his half-hearted protests, she snaked her arms around him and lay him gently back on the bed, probing under his muscles, and making sure that nothing had been broken.

"Ow... Helen, honey, I'm fine... just a few bruises... ow!"

His wife looked at him with penetrating eyes, and moved her hands back to his ribcage. "Just a few bruises, Bob? It feels like at least one, maybe two cracked ribs here – and where did all of these _burns_ come from?"

He couldn't quite meet Helen's stare, and shrugged. "When Buddy had me locked up, he used a coupla thousand volts to try and persuade me to tell him about a distress signal I _didn't_ send out. Didn't seem to want to take 'no' for an answer – ow! – just like old times..."

"Tomorrow, we are calling Agent Samson and we're going to get you sent to a military hospital. I'm sure they still have a few of the 'Super-powered' ones still in operation. Your bones are stronger than carbon steel, and resetting those ribs is going to be beyond a regular hospital, I think."

Helen crawled into bed, and quietly lay beside him. There was another long stretch of silence as the two of them tried to come to grips with their situation, both still wrapped in towels, above the sheets. Finally, Bob turned his wife and kissed her. She snuggled up to him, burying her face in his broad chest. "I have to say, honey, you are taking this better than I'd hoped..."

When Helen looked up at him, her eyes were streaked with tears. "You think so, Bob? I've had to be strong for the kids, but now, now... I hurt so much, Bob, and I'm scared for the kids. It wasn't like this when we were young."

Bob Parr was silent, holding his wife close as she sobbed into his chest. "Have you seen the kids, Bob? Girls Violet's age should be giggling about boys and buying training bras should be the biggest crisis they need to worry about. She's got bruises on her back from when she was _shot with a machine gun!_ That damned jumpsuit saved her life, but that doesn't help me when I think about it. All I can think is that someone has tried to kill our baby girl, just because of what she is," she choked.

"Helen..."

"And Dash! Dash should be playing with toy racecars and throwing spitballs at the girls. You've seen the bruises on his face and chest! Those damn mercenaries hurt him, grown men punching a ten-year-old boy... we aren't invincible, Bob. You could have died, I could have died, the kids could have died! Are we going to go back to being heroes again? Are we going to put our kids into danger again?"

"Helen, stop, you are getting hysterical, we can't wake the kids..." She was hiccupping now, and Bob felt a twinge of his own fear come up. "Do you remember what I promised you, when we were young? We'd be together, no matter what. Dash and Violet and Jack are incredible, wonderful kids. They'd do anything for you – but they won't be kids forever. Someday they'll grow up, and we need to teach them how to use their powers to help people... they are _exceptional_, they are _gifted_, and those gifts could be turned to harm just as easily as help."

Helen's towel had slipped a little bit, and Bob couldn't help but admire the pretty woman he'd been married to for fifteen years. He kissed her again as she got her tears under control. "Exceptional men and women haven't disappeared, even if the 'supers' have. There will be a new generation coming into their own in a few years, and we have to guide them, so they won't make the same mistakes we made when we were young."

The two entwined, and Helen reached up to trace the old scars around Bob's right eye. "We were stupid sometimes, weren't we?"

"Oh, yeah. I remember the first time I tried to stop a robbery, I had this whole little speech prepared, just like The Patriot – who was my absolute idol until he was killed in Vietnam – and I'm in the middle of my first 'halt, villain,' when the guy just fires his gun at me. Luckily he missed. We didn't have bulletproof suits back then! I tore the vault door from the wall and used it as a shield until he ran out of bullets. He ended up getting away, though without any loot. Oh God, I was only seventeen – we really were just kids with all this power and no clue how to use it..."

Helen giggled a little bit, snuggling closer. "You think that was bad. I didn't have a suit that stretched properly – every fight I got in I ended up with ripped pants and shirts. One time I ripped my shirt clean off, and had to finish those hijackers off almost completely naked. I was only about nineteen at the time, too – and it _did_ seem to be a pretty effective distraction..."

"Mmm, I'm sorry I wasn't there to see _that_, honey..." Bob growled suggestively.

"Bob, stop it! You are making me blush! That was before we met up anyways."

"You're towel has slipped, Helen..."

"Bob!" she said sharply, slapping his hand lightly. "Not right now. We were discussing going back to being 'supers' full-time. I don't know if it's such a good idea, if we are going to expose the kids to danger."

"How about we compromise – _if_ the government is willing to sponsor us again, you and I go back, and we'll bring the kids along to teach them, _if_ its not too dangerous, and _if_ they don't have too much homework."

Helen chewed her lower lip thoughtfully, and then smiled brilliantly. "Ok, but I've got to stay home and look after Jack-Jack most of the time, so we'll have to talk to the government about scheduling something about that. Other than that, it's a great plan!" she exclaimed happily. In a burst of enthusiasm, she threw her arms around Bob's neck and hugged him tightly. The poor towel was completely discarded in her enthusiasm.

"Ow, honey," Bob managed between kisses. "Watch the broken ribs, please... and the burns... ow... and the bruises..."

"Oh, Bob, I'm sorry!"

"Yeah, not that I mind what you are doing, but maybe... take a rain-check? Until I've healed up a bit."

"Of course, dear. Here, lets get some pajamas on and get some sleep." She rolled to the side of the bed and put her feet on the floor, wincing slightly.

"Helen, are you all right?"

"I got off easier than you or the kids, I think – just a mild concussion, some burns, and a bruise here and here," she said, pointing to a thin purple-and-black stripe across her hips and another on her thigh.

"Ow... what happened there?"

"Door shut on me. Twice. Long story. Anyways, I'm fine – I always was better at getting out of the way than you were, dear."

"As long as you are all right – I don't know what I would do if you got hurt again."

The two of them wiggled into their sleeping clothes with much wincing and (on Bob's part) muffled cursing, and then climbed back into the bed. "You know that, if we go super again, we'll be putting ourselves back into danger again," Helen said quietly as she turned out the light.

Bob held his wife in the darkness. "It'll be worth it, though. Won't it?"

"If it was just us, I'd say yes in a second, Bob. I'm scared for the kids, though. What will happen to them if something happens to us?"

"We've raised them well, Helen. We'll do the right thing. And they'll do the right thing, even if we are gone. What we have is too important to abandon just because we are afraid."

"You're right, of course. We'll make a difference, and so will Dash, and Violet, and Jack.  We can't turn our back on the ones who need us."

"I love you, Elastigirl."

"I love you too, Mr. Incredible."


End file.
